Strike!
I'll admit I was running late that day,
Back home from the trailer park,
It was cold and wet in the alleyway
As I made my way in the dark,
My wife had run off with the milkman
Left me caring for two young boys,
They were at that age - you know the one,
Where they scatter the house with toys!
The hall was lying in darkness, but
I could hear them, back in the house,
Their voices raised in an argument,
The why's and the where's, and how's,
I walked on into the kitchen, then
And stood stock still at the door,
If I hadn't been self-possessed that day
My jaw would have hit the floor!
‘Okay, fess up! Who brought it home? '
But Tim just gave me a scowl,
‘It's mine, but Robbie's a sookie moan! '
Then Robert began to howl;
‘It isn't fair, it's always the best
That he gets, it's never enough! '
‘I thought they were fixed, ' said Tim at last,
‘But his must have fallen off! '
I looked at the head on the table, it
Was fixed with a crooked grin,
There wasn't a sign of blood on it,
And it had a wax-like skin,
‘Are you sure it's real? ' I reached on out
To poke it, there on the cheek,
But the eyelids flew wide open, stared,
And my heart - it stopped for a week!
‘I found it out in a puddle, in
The alleyway out the back,
I picked it up and I brought it home
Tucked into my haversack.'
I sat them down and I pointed out
That we couldn't go keeping heads,
As the sweat broke out on my brow to think
Just what I'd say to the Feds!
Their mother rang, she was on her way
To collect some more of her stuff,
I freaked, and hurried the boys away,
And I got them cleaning up,
I swore them both to a pact with me,
They mustn't whisper a thing,
For mothers are pretty touchy, see,
When they take off that wedding ring!
I took the head, had put it away
By the time that she rang the bell,
The Milkman lurked in the alleyway,
For him, it was just as well;
She took her clothes and the bowling bag,
They were off to the Ten Pin Bowl,
I mused, were the nostrils flared enough
To pass for a ten pound ball!
13 August 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Pearls of Verna Boone
I'd been alone for a year or so
Since Norma Jean had died,
I stayed in the house I'd bought for her
At the end of River Drive,
I'd felt her death as a fatal blow,
A crippling twist of fate,
For Norma Jean was my one true love,
Though I'd met her a little late!
I was past my prime when our eyes had met,
And she'd looked so young to me,
Her eyes had sparkled like diamonds set
As scarabs in sand and sea,
She saw the desert behind my eyes,
The emptiness in my life,
I stumbled over the words, but she
Said 'Yes! ' - She would be my wife!
I didn't know that she carried then
The seeds of a painful death,
Her face was flushed at the altar stone
And she seemed so short of breath,
I thought it merely a passing faint
That excitement had brought on,
As we stood in front of the Minister,
And joined our lives as one.
But then at home, she fell apart,
Collapsed on the kitchen floor,
I saw her lying, and coughing blood
Like I'd never seen before,
The doctor called, and he shook his head
As he left her there in the bed,
'I'm very sorry, ' the doctor sighed,
'But your lovely wife is dead! '
I cried and raged, and swore at fate
I smashed each wedding gift,
I wouldn't go to the funeral
But stayed at home and wept.
I cursed the heavens and thought that hell
Could never have been as bad
As a love that I'd waited a lifetime for,
A love that I'd never had!
The house next door was a rental place,
Stood empty for months that year,
But then a couple had moved on in,
I didn't see him, just her.
I thought that he was a traveller,
Was constantly on the road,
He came at night, and he left at dawn
In a battered and ancient Ford.
I had no reason to talk to them,
I sat at home with my grief,
I wandered out in the garden then
At one with each falling leaf,
But then one day, I heard her there
The other side of the fence,
Breaking her heart, as crying there
She sobbed with vehemence.
After a week of this, I climbed
The fence, and spoke to her,
'Why do you sigh, why do you cry? '
But she cried then all the more.
I walked around and sat with her
Quite late in the afternoon,
She smiled, and dried her eyes, and said,
'My name is Verna Boone! '
She said she'd only been married
Just a year this coming Spring,
But now that she knew the man he was,
Regretted everything,
He'd lost her money, just gambled it,
Had spent it on other girls,
And now they were left with nothing, he
Just wanted her mother's pearls!
'They're all I have to remember her, '
She sobbed, like a frightened child,
'They're worth a lot, but they're more to me, '
She looked at me, and smiled.
She took me inside and pulled them out
Three strings, they were very fine,
'He said that he's going to pawn them! '
Then she put her small hand in mine.
I was sad, alone and vulnerable,
I looked at her lovely curls,
She smiled at me, and she asked me then
If I'd care for her mother's pearls?
'I'll say they're lost, misplaced, I'll say,
He'll rant and rage, and more,
But he won't be able to pawn them now...'
Then she walked me to the door.
I took her home, and I placed the pearls
With the gems my wife had once:
'They'll be all right in the downstairs safe.'
It was then that she saw the gun.
She looked afraid, but she picked it up
And weighed it there in her hand,
I took it gently and locked it up
With the rest of my contraband.
'She must have watched as I spun the dial,
I know - I was such a fool! '
The sergeant sat and he stared at me,
And his stare was distant, cool.
He didn't believe a word I said
I could see that now, I'm done!
They put me back in a cell to wait
To be charged with Murder One!
She told them I had come over when
Her husband came home one night,
Waving a gun and ranting, then
Her husband put up a fight!
I'd shot him once through the head, she said,
Then taken her on the bed,
Stolen a fine pearl necklace,
Then beaten and left her for dead!
They found the gun on the floor, they said,
I knew that the gun was mine,
They found the pearls in my safe, they said,
It was only a question of time.
She sat at the back of the court while I
Was stood in the prisoner's dock,
And I noticed she wore her mother's pearls
With a nice new evening frock.
10 August 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No Son Of Mine
The key to my survival
was never in much doubt
the question was how I could keep sane
trying to find a way out
things were never easy for me
peace of mind was hard to find
and I needed a place where I could hide
somewhere I could call mine
I didn't think much about it
til it started happening all the time
soon I was living with the fear everyday
of what might happen at night
I couldn't stand to hear the
crying of my mother
and I rememeber when
I swore that, that would be the
last they'd see of me
and I never went home again
they say time is a healer
and now my wounds are not the same
I rang the bell with my heart in my mouth
I had to hear what he'd say
He sat me down to talk to me
he looked me straight in the eyes
he said:
You're no son, no son of mine
You're no son, no son of mine
You walked out, you left us behind
and you're no son, no son of mine
oh his words how they hurt me, I'll never forget it
and as the time, it went by, I lived to regret it
You're no son, no son of mine
but where should I go,
and what should I do
you're no son, no son of mine
but I came here for help, I came here for you
Well the years they passed slowly
I thought about him everyday
what would I do, if we passed on the street
would I keep running away
in and out of hiding places
soon I'd have to face the facts
we'd have to sit down and talk it over
and that would mean going back
they say time is a healer
and now my wounds are not the same
I rang the bell with my heart in my mouth
I had to hear what he'd say
He sat down to talk to me
he looked me straight in the eyes
he said:
You're no son of mine
song performed by by Phil Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coffee
Sometimes life is merely a matter of coffee and whatever intimacy a cup of coffee
affords. I once read something about coffee. The thing said that coffee is good for you;
it stimulates all the organs.
I thought at first this was a strange way to put it, and not altogether pleasant, but
as time goes by I have found out that it makes sense in its own limited way. I'll tell you
what I mean.
Yesterday morning I went over to see a girl. I like her. Whatever we had going for us
is gone now. She does not care for me. I blew it and wish I hadn't.
I rang the door bell and waited on the stairs. I could hear her moving around upstairs.
The way she moved I could tell that she was getting up. I had awakened her.
Then she came down the stairs. I could feel her approach in my stomach. Every step she
took stirred my feelings and lead indirectly to her opening the door. She saw me and it
did not please her.
Once upon a time it pleased her very much, last week. I wonder where it went,
pretending to be naive.
"I feel strange now," she said. "I don't want to talk."
"I want a cup of coffee," I said, because it was the last thing in the world
that I wanted. I said it in such a way that it sounded as if I were reading her a telegram
from somebody else, a person who really wanted a cup of coffee, who cared about nothing
else.
"All right," she said.
I followed her up the stairs. It was ridiculous. She had just put some clothes on. They
had not quite adjusted themselves to her body. I could tell you about her ass. We went
into the kitchen.
She took a jar of instant coffee off the shelf and put it on the table. She placed a
cup next to it, and a spoon. I looked at them. She put a pan full of water on the stove
and turned the gas on under it.
All this time she did not say a word. Her clothes adjusted themselves to her body. I
won't. She left the kitchen.
Then she went down the stairs and outside to see if she had any mail. I didn't remember
seeing any. She came back up the stairs and went into another room. She closed the door
after her. I looked at the pan full of water on the stove.
I knew that it would take a year before the water started to boil. It was now October
and there was too much water in the pan. That was the problem. I threw half of the water
into the sink.
The water would boil faster now. It would take only six months. The house was quiet.
I looked out the back porch. There were sacks of garbage there. I stared at the garbage
and tried to figure out what she had been eating lately by studying the containers and
peelings and stuff. I couldn't tell a thing.
It was now March. The water started to boil. I was pleased by this.
I looked at the table. There was the jar of instant coffee, the empty cup and the spoon
all laid out like a funeral service. These are the things that you need to make a cup of
coffee.
When I left the house ten minutes later, the cup of coffee safely inside me like a
grave, I said, "Thank you for the cup of coffee."
"You're welcome," she said. Her voice came from behind a closed door. Her
voice sounded like another telegram. It was really time for me to leave.
I spent the rest of the day not making coffee. It was a comfort. And evening came, I
had dinner in a restaurant and went to a bar. I had some drinks and talked to some people.
We were bar people and said bar things. None of them remembered, and the bar closed. It
was two o'clock in the morning. I had to go outside. It was foggy and cold in San
Francisco. I wondered about the fog and felt very human and exposed.
I decided to go visit another girl. We had not been friends for over a year. Once we
were very close. I wondered what she was thinking about now.
I went to her house. She didn't have a door bell. That was a small victory. One must
keep track of all the small victories. I do, anyway.
She answered the door. She was holding a robe in front of her. She didn't believe that
she was seeing me. "What do you want?" she said, believing now that she was
seeing me. I walked right into the house.
She turned and closed the door in such a way that I could see her profile. She had not
bothered to wrap the robe completely around herself. She was just holding the robe in
front of herself.
I could see an unbroken line of body running from her head to her feet. It looked kind
of strange. Perhaps because it was so late at night.
"What do you want?" she said.
"I want a cup of coffee," I said. What a funny thing to say, to say again for
a cup of coffee was not what I really wanted.
She looked at me and wheeled slightly on the profile. She was not pleased to see me.
Let the AMA tell us that time heals. I looked at the unbroken line of her body.
"Why don't you have a cup of coffee with me?" I said. "I feel like
talking to you. We haven't talked for a long time."
She looked at me and wheeled slightly on the profile. I stared at the unbroken line of
her body. This was not good.
"It's too late," she said. "I have to get up in the morning. If you want
a cup of coffee, there's instant in the kitchen. I have to go to bed."
The kitchen light was on. I looked down the hall into the kitchen. I didn't feel like
going into the kitchen and having another cup of coffee by myself. I didn't feel like
going to anybody else's house and asking them for a cup of coffee.
I realized that the day had been committed to a very strange pilgrimage, and I had not
planned it that way. At least the jar of instant coffee was not on the table, beside an
empty white cup and a spoon.
They say in the spring a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love. Perhaps if he has
enough time left over, his fancy can even make room for a cup of coffee.
poem by Richard Brautigan from Revenge of the Lawn (1971)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Courting Disaster
I was twenty-three when I saw her first,
Without a word of a lie,
She had wandered into the woods by me
With a basket, held on high,
Her auburn hair reflected the sun
And she flashed me a dazzling smile,
That turned my head to the way she led
As I followed her, over the stile.
She skipped along at a steady pace
Weaved in and out through the trees,
Collected the broad-rimmed mushrooms there
As she stopped, and fell to her knees,
Her dress flared out as it caught the wind
And her hair was floated wide,
I hid by a tree, and held my breath
As I thought of her, as a bride.
She had such a look of innocence,
Was free as the birds of the air,
The legs and the grace of a peasant girl
Brought up in the great out-there,
She ran right up to a Woodsman's house
That was hidden by branch and vine,
Then danced right in through the open door,
And then I knew; she was mine!
The door was closed when I finally knocked
But I heard a terrible moan,
And minutes later the door unlocked,
In the hall stood a fusty crone,
She stared at me through her hoary eyes
With never a hint of grace,
‘What do you want? ' she growled at me,
For the shock must have shown in my face.
‘That girl, who danced in a moment back,
I'm here to discover her name.'
‘There is no girl, ' said the ancient hack,
‘You'd better return where you came! '
‘I saw her enter, I must insist,
I'll not be gulled by your lies! '
‘That girl's been dead for a long time back,
You'd better leave now, if you're wise! '
She slammed the door in my face just then
So I wandered back through the trees,
A raincloud covered the midday sun
And I felt the chill of a breeze,
The rain came down as I walked back home,
Climbed over the ricketty stile,
Was drenched to the skin as I wandered in,
And thought to resort to guile.
For days I lingered by that old track,
The place that I'd seen her first,
I felt so miserable, holding back,
As I thought, and feared for the worst,
What if the girl was a sprite, who'd died,
Just as the old crone said?
Try as I might, I couldn't believe,
Nor get her out of my head.
I finally went to the Woodsman's house
And I hid in a patch by the vine,
When suddenly out of the door came tripping
The girl, with her eyes a-shine,
She skipped away with her basket, filled
With linen and loaves and cheese,
And I caught her then in a shady glade
As she stopped, and fell to her knees.
‘I hoped you'd come, ' were the words she said
As she laid a cloth on the ground,
‘I have to hide from that grey old witch
So I go where I'll never be found.'
She broke the bread and she poured the wine
And we ate and drank in the glade,
My mind was filled with a sudden chill
But I thought of fun in the shade.
‘So when are you going to kiss me, then? '
She said when we finished our feast,
‘I've fed your animal spirits, now,
It's time I was paid, at least! '
I kissed her there in the shady glade
And we tumbled there in the leaves,
Then I fell asleep, and she'd gone when I
Awoke, and the heart, it grieves.
I stumbled home, but was feeling faint
I had aches and pains in my head,
I staggered through to the bedroom, then
I found her asleep in my bed,
She woke and sat, and she stared at me
But her face had begun to change,
There were lines and wrinkles around her eyes
And her hair was grey with age.
‘I need you now that my time is short,
Come and rest your weary head, '
I caught a glimpse in the mirror then
And it filled me full of dread,
For the face of a man of middle age
Stared back at me from the glass,
‘Just what have to done to me? ' I said…
‘Do you really have to ask? '
‘I fed on your animal needs, and you
Gave something to set me free,
If you want me to be a bright young thing
Then you must replenish me.'
I saw she aged by the minute there
And she soon let out a moan,
For lying in bed was a figure of dread,
That hoary old witch, the crone!
I'm far too weak to get out of bed,
But Elli goes out on her own,
She carries her basket into the wood
For the mushrooms she eats alone,
My beard is grey and I dread each day
As she bleeds my life from its core,
But she's as lovely as ever she was
At a hundred and twenty-four!
26 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Strangers in Time
I'll ever remember the day she left
In a storm, I was so unkind,
I'd hurled the dinner right over her head
At the wall, and it blew her mind!
‘That's it! ' she muttered, and grabbed her bag
Went sailing out of the door,
With never a backward glance at me
Or our lives, forever more!
I sat for a week, just waited, thinking
Soon she'll be coming home,
Sat in the dark and hated, loved,
Then thought I'd better atone,
So I took to the streets, her mother's house
But of her, there wasn't a trace,
I tried her sister and brother's homes
And they slammed the door in my face.
Louise had walked right out of my life
And she wouldn't be coming back,
My world collapsed in a fit of tears
But I had to accept the fact,
I walked unthinking into the road,
Was hit by the local bus,
I vaguely remember the ambulance bell
And waking up in a truss.
There was something odd in that hospital,
I couldn't quite pin it down,
The ward was the long, old-fashioned sort
In a seedy part of town,
I noticed the nurse's uniforms
Were odd, like they used to wear
Back in the fifties, as a kid
I'd had tonsillitis there.
There was more than plenty of time to think
And I went back through my life,
Went back to every decision I'd made
Right up to losing my wife,
If I'd just done this, or just said that
I'd have taken a different tack,
So many ways I'd mishandled things
With no chance of going back.
And there, behind each second of time
Was a choice that we'd have to make,
Two paths had always been open to us
What path did the other path take?
Could there be a parallel universe
Where the other half of me,
Had made those different decisions,
Was alive, but happy and free?
It took three months for my wounds to heal
Then I found myself in the street,
It wasn't the town I remembered, though,
It had changed, perceptively,
And I was feeling much younger
So much fitter than before,
A glimpse of my face in a mirror, caught
And shocked me to the core!
I went to the university
And there I saw Louise,
Just as I'd seen her years before
And she waved and smiled at me,
Or I thought she did, but she passed me by
Went up to another man,
Kissed him there in the quad, and then
Walked off with him, hand in hand.
I was back in a parallel universe
Before she'd become my wife,
And now I remembered, Andy Cole
Had caused me a lot of strife,
We'd both gone after the same Louise
In the end, she'd chosen me,
But not before he had done with her,
Walked off, and set her free.
I followed them at a distance to
The place where they shared a flat,
I noticed she wore a wedding ring
And I thought that that was that!
I'd come too late in this scheme of things
That had taken another line,
I walked by her, but she knew me not,
We were simply strangers in time.
Then suddenly I was back at home
And closing the old front door,
I could smell Louise's cooking, it
Was a dish I'd come to abhor,
I took my place at the table and
She handed me the plate,
I said, ‘It smells delicious, dear! '
I'm the master of my fate!
7 October 2012
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Night The Lights Went Out In Georgia
(bobby russell)
He was on his way home from candletop
Been two weeks gone and he thought hed stop
At webs and have him a drink for he went home to her
Andy wo-lo said hello
He said hi whats a doing
Wo said sit down I got some bad news thats gonna hurt
Said Im your best friend and you know thats right
But your young bride aint home tonight
Since you been gone shes been seeing that amos boy seth
He got mad and he saw red
Andy said boy dont you lose your head
Cause to tell you the truth Ive been with her myself
Chorus:
Thats the night the lights went out in georgia
Thats the night that they hung an innocent man
Dont trust your soul to no back woods southern lawyer
Cause the judge in the towns got bloodstains on his hand
Andy got scared and left the bar
Walking on home cause he didnt live far you see
Andy didnt have many friends and he just lost him one
Brother thought his wife mustve left town
So he went home and finally found the only thing
Daddy had left him and that was a gun
He went off to andys house
Slipping through the back woods quiet as a mouse
Came upon some tracks too small for andy to make
He looked through the screen at the back porch door
He saw andy lying on the floor
In a puddle of blood and he started to shake
The georgia patrol was making their rounds
So he fired a shot just to flag em down
And a big bellied sheriff grabbed his gun and said
Whyd you do it?
The judge said guilty in a make believe trial
Slapped the sherrif on the back with a smile and said
Suppers waiting at home and I got to get to it
Chorus
They hung my brother before I could say
The tracks he saw while on his way
To andys house and back that night were mine
And his cheatin wife had never left town
And thats one body thatll be found
You see little sister dont miss when she aims her gun
Repeat chorus twice
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Bellman
He rang it in the marketplace,
He rang it in the street,
Old Silas was the Bellman
In the village of Purfleet,
He'd rung the bell for sixty years,
He'd rung the bell for war,
He'd rung it for the harvest
But would ring the bell no more!
The Mayor and all his councillors
Had met within the Hall,
Discussed the ponderous questions
That would bear upon them all,
Their gowns were trimmed with ermine
And the mayor, he wore his chain,
The solemn Majesty of State
Was heard in their refrain!
‘We must dismiss the Bellman, '
Said the hoary Abel Creep,
‘He rings it at the strangest times,
I just can't get to sleep! '
‘Agreed, ' said Horace Fumblewit,
It's more than time enough,
I thought that he'd be dead by this…'
‘Hear hear! ' said Toby Gruff.
They called him to the chamber
And delivered him the score,
Old Silas staggered back in shock,
They'd rocked him to the core!
He raised the bell above his head
And gave a mighty ‘Clang! '
Then jumped up on their table
Where they sat, their ears rang!
‘I've been the Bellman sixty years,
My father taught me then,
His father went before him, rang
The bell for Inkerman;
But way, way back before that time
My forebears had a stake,
They warned of the Armada,
Rang the bell for Francis Drake! '
He stomped along their table
In his coarse old hob-nailed boots,
He silenced their authority
To rule in mean disputes,
For every time a councillor
Would seek to raise his voice,
The bell would drown his utterance,
It gave them little choice!
‘There's been a Bellman in this burgh
Right back, before King John,
You think you petty underlings
Can rule once I am gone?
Your ancestors lie buried in
The gravel by the Church,
While mine live on in history…
I'll knock you off your perch!
He raised the bell and made it peal,
It rocked the ancient hall,
The walls shook with vibrations
‘Til the roof began to fall,
The beams came crashing down in a
Scenario from Hell,
‘Your time is not forever, ' cried
The man who rang the bell!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christina and You and Home for Lunch
As you went by
the girl's playground
after getting off
the school bus
Christina called to you
through the wire fence
and said
my mother said
you can come home
for lunch today
if you like
ok
you said
where shall I meet you?
Cedric will bring you along
she said
and so when
the lunch time
recess bell rang
you followed Cedric
out of the school
and saw Christina
by the outer fence waiting
are you sure
your mother doesn't mind?
you asked
of course not
she said
Cedric walked on in front
leaving you and Christiana
to walk on behind
she talked about some girl
in her class who had a boyfriend
and claimed
to have had sex
and then she went on
about the teacher
who had been expelled
for taking pupils home
in his lunch hour
it was boys though
she added
and then you came
to her house
and she took you in
and there was her mother
in the kitchen
nice to meet you
she said
Christina has talked
about you so much
Cedric behind
his mother's back
was making gagging gestures
with his fingers
down his throat
Christina looked at you
and smiled
nice to be here
you said
are you sure it's all right
me coming?
of course it is
Christina's mother said
now sit down
and I'll serve up for us all
and so you all sat down
around the table
and Cedric looked at you
then looked down
at his knife and fork
and Christina said
glad you're here
and she put a hand
over yours
and gave your hand
a squeeze
then removed it
when her mother
set down the plates
and then sat down herself
and you all began to eat
in an unusual silence
Christina giving you
a bright eyed stare
and Cedric looking
over your shoulder
as if you weren't there
after lunch their mother
cleared the table
of plates and went off
and Cedric went
into the lounge
leaving you and Christina alone
what do you think?
she asked
about what?
you asked
my mother
what do you think of her?
she seems nice
you said
she gets depressed a lot
Christina said
but today
she was at her best
oh right
you said
sorry she gets depressed
come on
Christina said
I'll show you my room
you raised your eyebrows
won't your mother mind?
you asked
not if she doesn't know
Christina replied
isn't it a bit risky?
you said
yes
she said
that's what makes life
so interesting
so you followed her
and tiptoed up the stairs
and she showed you
her bedroom
and her favourite doll
and other favourites of hers
lined along her bed
then she kissed you quickly
and then stood back
and smiled and said
best go down now
or she'll wonder
where we are
and so that was it
and as you followed her
down the stairs
you could hear the radio
playing some classical music
and her mother
humming along
and sounding quite happy
and Christina giving you
another kiss
behind her mother's back
and after saying thank you
to her mother
you all left
to return to school
the clouds promising rain
and so back to school
and the boring lessons
once again.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Men Cleaning Women Cannot Abide
My wife said she was going out to shop,
I knew she'd be gone for hours,
So I cleaned the house from bottom to top,
Then went out and bought her some flowers.
On arriving home she asked what's that smell,
I boasted I had just cleaned the house,
With what she said it's like something from Hell,
It stinks like a hundred dead grouse.
By doing the cleaning I thought you'd be flattered,
She said exactly what have you cleaned,
That really left my giant ego shattered,
How dare she leave me feeling demeaned?
The house is filthy what did you use,
I replied the same stuff as you,
She said it's my intelligence you're trying to abuse,
I'll now have to start cleaning anew.
What have you done to my kitchen floor?
You've got it full of stellar streaks,
The worktops are scratched like an old barn door,
My mop bucket's now full of leaks.
The toilet is filthy I said no it's not,
She said look at the state of the pan,
You've left enough stains to play dot to dot,
As for cleaning you're now on a ban.
She'll be so impressed she'll be singing,
That's what I honestly thought,
Now she's saying I've got the house minging,
Remember good cleaners cannot be bought.
I walked away totally deluded and sad,
It's moan if we don't then moan if we do,
If they had a self- cleaning house they'd still go mad,
I'm going down to the pub for a brew.
The moral of my story affects far more than me,
It's a problem that is truly worldwide,
It's a sexist thing I'm sure all males would agree,
‘' Men Cleaning, Women Cannot Abide ‘'
‘' They think we do it deliberately''
No Son Of Mine
Well the key to my survival
Was never in much doubt
The question was how I could keep sane
Trying to find a way out
Things were never easy for me
Peace of mind was hard to fin
And I needed a place where I could hide
Somewhere I could call mine
I didnt think much about it
Til it started happening all the time
Soon I was living with the fear everyday
Of what might happen that night
I couldnt stand to hear the
Crying of my mother
And I remember when
I swore that, that would be the
Last theyd see of me
And I never went home again
They say that time is a healer
And now my wounds are not the same
I rang the bell with my heart in my mouth
I had to hear what hed say
He sat me down to talk to me
He looked me straight in the eyes
He said:
Youre no son, youre no son of mine
Youre no son, youre no son of mine
You walked out, you left us behind
And youre no son, no son of mine
Oh, his words how they hurt me, Ill never forget it
And as the time, it went by, I lived to regret it
Youre no son, youre no son of mine
But where should I go,
And what should I do
Youre no son, youre no son of mine
But I came here for help, oh I came here for you
Well the years they passed so slowly
I thought about him everyday
What would I do, if we passed on the street
Would I keep running away
In and out of hiding places
Soon Id have to face the facts
Wed have to sit down and talk it over
And that would mean going back
They say that time is a healer
And now my wounds are not the same
I rang that bell with my heart in my mouth
I had to hear what hed say
He sat me down to talk to me
He looked me straight in the eyes
He said:
Youre no son, youre no son of mine
Youre no son, youre no son of mine
When you walked out, you left us behind
And youre no son, youre no son of mine
Oh, his words how they hurt me, Ill never forget it
And as the time, it went by, I lived to regret it
Youre no son, youre no son of mine
But where should I go and what should I do
Youre no son, youre no son of mine
But I came here for help, oh I was looking for you
Youre no son, youre no son of mine - oh
Youre no son - ha yeah, ha yeah, ha yeah, ha yeah
Youre no son, youre no son of mine - oh, oh...
song performed by by Genesis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Louie Louie, Go Home
Well i, well I left my wife and child (louie, go back home)
Yeah, my conscience is about to drive me wild, yeah (louie, go back home)
A little voice inside of my head goes on and on (louie, go back home)
It says louie, louie, louie
You better come back home
Well i, well I thought I make it by myself, yeah (louie, go back home)
Oh, but my baby, shes got my heart a-upon the shelve (louie, go back home)
Oh well i, well I can still hear her moan (louie, go back home)
Theyre crying louie, louie, louie
You better go back home
You better go back home, yeah
You better go back home, yeah
You better go back home
Oh yeah, you better go back home
You better go back aho aho ahome, ahome yeah yeah
Home ahome ahome
Just to go back ahome ahome ahome
Driving home, yeah, home
Just a little bit louder now (just a little bit louder)
Just a little bit louder now (just a little bit louder)
Just a little bit louder (just a little bit louder)
Well, Im going home (just a little bit louder)
Well, Im going home, yeah
Ooh, Im going back, back, back, back, back, to my home
Yeah home
Home sweet home
Im going back home, ooh
Im going home, yeah
Im going home, yeah
Im going home, yeah
Im going home, yeah
Back to my baby
Back to where they need me
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mrs Clark's Daughter.
Your mother stood talking
With Mrs Clark after school
And you were kicking your
Heels waiting to get home
To your toys and games and
You gazed at Mrs Clark’s young
Daughter who poked her head
Out from around her mother’s
Wide ass and stared at you
Through thin wired spectacles
Which made her eyes large as
Fish in glass bowls and her hair
Was ribboned up in two plaits
Either side of her head giving
Her a stern expression and Mrs
Clark said Helen here has a crush
On your son or so she told me
After school yesterday and Mrs
Clark gave you a big smile like
A hippo coming out of water
And your mother said he never
Talks of girls and such all too
Busy with his toys and games
And shooting from his imaginary
Horse around the house and
Mrs Clark said well boys will
Be boys and girls be girls each
Playing games with their own
Toys and Helen poked out her
Tongue and a boss-eyed stare
God was you glad when your
Mother took you out of there.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Reckoning
My mother was carried to heaven
On the day that I turned six,
She died of tuberculosis
Spitting blood in a coughing fit,
She'd been so ill for a long long time
That I couldn't recall her smile,
My father, he just grumbled, said:
'Your Ma will be gone for a while.'
'She's gone to sing in a choir up there,
Who knows how long she will be? '
But I saw the coffin that carried her out,
The hearse and the burial tree,
I watched as it sank down into the ground
And my father just left it there,
Went off to visit my 'aunt', he said,
A woman with long, blond hair.
I stayed at home, such a lonely child,
And went to a place in my head,
Where mother was fit and without a care
She laughed at the things I said,
My father left me alone a lot
So mother would tell me, 'Shush! '
We'd laugh and giggle when he went out
But talk in a sort of hush.
I played outside at other times
Where the grass grew long and wild,
I'd catch the skinks as they darted past,
I was always a curious child,
I'd bring the Sleepy Lizards home,
My father didn't mind,
He said I could keep the pets I caught,
I thought he was being kind.
But then one day he came on home
With this 'aunt', who moved right in,
He said they were married now, so I
Should call her 'Mum', not Jen.
I scowled, and went to my room to cry,
My mother was looking sad,
She said, 'just do what your father says,
I'm your Mother, but he's your Dad.'
This Jenny, she was all right at first
She tried to make me smile,
But I was feeling rebellious then,
And turned my back for a while,
I kept my rabbits and guinea pigs
And fed them out in their hutch,
But Jenny came out to look at them,
And she didn't like them much.
I knew, she wrinkled her powdered nose
And said, 'Oh pew! They stink!
We'll have to find you a hobby, one
That's pure and clean, I think.'
I heard her talking to father, say
That she thought I was rather slow,
She wanted the garden tidied up
So my animals had to go.
It was just about that time, I think
That my mother said goodbye,
She couldn't stay in that house, she said,
It was time for her to fly,
She left me alone in a great big world
So I brought a Lizard inside,
And put it under my bedclothes
Thought it a perfect place to hide.
When Jenny made the bed, she screamed
And shook me like a rag,
She went and got a kitchen knife
And a plastic shopping bag,
She made me put the Lizard in
Then she took the bag outside,
And stabbed and stabbed 'til the Lizard bled,
'Til my Lizard friend had died.
'Now bury it! ' she said to me,
'And don't you ever dare
Bring filthy animals into this house,
For if you do, I swear...'
At this she put the knife to my throat
And stood and watched me scream,
I saw the hate in her powdered face
It was like an awful dream!
Whenever my father left the house
She'd always scream and shout,
Knock me around for the slightest thing
Then drag me, throw me out,
Lock the door so I couldn't get in
And give me nothing to eat,
She said if I told my Dad on her
It would only get me beat.
She killed my rabbits, cooked them up
And served them from a pot,
She gave me a crooked, evil grin:
'You'd better eat the lot! '
I found myself in a black, black rage
Inside, at the things she'd done,
And hoped that my father would go on out
And buy himself a gun.
He never knew what she did to me,
I never would dare to say,
I knew that she'd get me on my own
And then there'd be hell to pay,
So I stayed outside in the barren fields
And found me a hessian sack,
Then went for a hunt with a long, forked stick,
It was time to get her back!
I waited until he'd gone away,
Was gone two days or more,
Then bit my tongue as she raved at me,
Spat hate from the kitchen door,
The morning came, and there wasn't a sound
To come from that angry head,
And I will never regret the day
I put a snake in her bed.
10 March 2009
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Double Wide Paradise
(paul thorn/billy maddox)
I dont want to cry
I dont want to walk the floor
This mobile home
Dont feel like home no more
Since you left tell me what else can I do
Just come back home
Forgive me and forget it
This bed I made
Im tired of sleepin in it
Its freezin cold, and baby that aint cool
Im waitin on you
Here at the ponderosa trailer park
There wasnt nothin that could keep us apart
Then I broke your heart, in our
Double wide, double wide, double wide paradise
Come on back to our double wide paradise
Double wide, double wide paradise
I bought a swimmin pool
From the man at sears
He put it together
I filled it up with tears
Cant find no happiness no matter what I do
Just cause I got
The treasures of the world
It dont mean nothin
If I aint got you girl
Inside my castle
I got the king size blues
Im waitin on you
So baby when you get to feelin alone
You know I always leave my porch light on
So you can come back home, to our
Double wide, double wide, double wide paradise
Come on back to our double wide paradise
Double wide, double wide paradise
We can have a second honeymoon
Well throw some ribs on the barbecue
Just like we used to do
Double wide, double wide, double wide paradise
Come on back to our double wide paradise
Double wide, double wide paradise
song performed by by Toby Keith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freezing Steel
Freezing steel
Ive flown the house of freezing, the house of freezing steel
And though my bodys back I know it cant be real
cause Ive been on that house without a guiding wheel
The house of freezing steel
Oh wheres it going, picked me up at seven
When my eyes were weak from the light of the morning
Oh sister wont you tell me what a man might want to know
This madness is fine, yes if youre mad at the time
Back on the house of freezing, the house of freezing steel
The tied my body up, Im forced to eat my meal
A cold plate of lamb and cold potatoes too
Now whats a soul to do
Oh lord above, brother wont you tell me
Is this a eucharistic dove
cause Ive been waiting for the right one to appear
But Ive seen it in your face, and baby this aint the place
Up on the house of freezing, the house of freezing steel.
I made my mind up then to get me to the wheel
I made the cabin door, the pilot turned around
He said were venus bound
Oh please take me home
After all Im only human and the earth is where I belong
I must have looked pitiful to this freak without a face
cause as he touched my head I saw myself back in bed
Ive flown the house of freezing, the house of freezing steel
And though my bodys back I know it cant be real
cause Ive been on that house without a guiding wheel
The house of freezing steel
song performed by by Cat Stevens
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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London Boys
Cow bell strikes another night
Your eyes are heavy and your limbs all ache
You've bought some coffee, butter and bread
You can't make a thing cause the meter's dead
You moved away
Hold your folks you're gonna stay away
Bright lights, Soho, Wardour street
You hope you make friends with the guys that you meet
Somebody shows you round
Now you've met the London boys
Things seem good again, someone cares about you
Oh, the first time that you tried a pill
You feel a little queasy, decidedly ill
You're gonna be sick, but you mustn't lose faith
To let yourself down would be a big disgrace
With the London boys, with the London boys
You're only seventeen, but you think you've grown
In the month you've been away from your parents' home
You take the pills too much
You don't give a damn about that jobs you've got
So long as you're with the London boys
A London boy, oh a London boy
Your flashy clothes are your pride and joy
A London boy, a London boy
You think you've had a lot of fun
But you ain't got nothing, you're on the run
It's too late now, cause you're out there boy
You've got it made with the rest of the toys
Now you wish you'd never left your home
You've got what you wanted but you're on your own
With the London boys
Now you've met the London boys
Now you've met the London boys
Now you've met the London boys
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The House On Centerville Road
We stopped beside the highway
And gazed at the old house
I told my wife, “That’s where I lived”
When I was just a little sprout
It looked smaller than it once did
Back so many years ago
Even then it was old and creaky
But, as a kid, I didn’t know
Weathered boards were loose and falling
Saplings grew up through the porch
The old tin roof was rusted orange
And the yard looked like a forest
Here dwells my oldest memories
From so many years ago
When our young family lived here
In the house on Centerville road
Those walls once rang with laughter
And the energy of two young lads
Riding stick horses all around the place
Trying to “herd” our collie, Pat
But, Pat knew more than we did
When she’d hear Mama shout
She’d turn us back from the road
And herd two boys toward the house
Dad got a job and we moved to town
Well before I started school
So, my memories are short and sketchy
But, I’ve found there are quite a few
My wife retrieved her camera
And as I turned the key to go
Snapped a picture from her window
Of the house on Centerville road
10/07/07
poem by C.R. Clark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When the Boys Come Home
There's a happy time coming,
When the boys come home.
There's a glorious day coming,
When the boys come home.
We will end the dreadful story
Of this treason dark and gory
In a sunburst of glory,
When the boys come home.
The day will seem brighter
When the boys come home,
For our hearts will be lighter
When the boys come home.
Wives and sweethearts will press them
In their arms and caress them,
And pray God to bless them,
When the boys come home.
The thinned ranks will be proudest
When the boys come home,
And their cheer will ring the loudest
When the boys come home.
The full ranks will be shattered,
And the bright arms will be battered,
And the battle-standards tattered,
When the boys come home.
Their bayonets may be rusty,
When the boys come home,
And their uniforms dusty,
When the boys come home.
But all shall see the traces
Of battle's royal graces,
In the brown and bearded faces,
When the boys come home.
Our love shall go to meet them,
When the boys come home,
To bless them and to greet them,
When the boys come home;
And the fame of their endeavor
Time and change shall not dissever
From the nation's heart forever,
When the boys come home.
The Tall Story
There was a knock on my front door, an angel stood outside!
I looked in shock, dropped to the floor, the door still opened wide.
The angel sighed and then flew in and put the kettle on,
Aware our talk would soon begin when fainting spells had gone.
The tea was ready there for me, he pointed to the cup.
So I drank my hot tea slowly, until that time was up.
He pointed to the living room, where both of us sat down,
My mind still felt a sense of doom and gloom sure makes you frown.
The angel told me, 'Get a pen and get some paper, too! '
So I stood up, right there and then, this very thing to do.
'Write down the words that I recite, when done, I'll have to leave.'
When I began, my face was white and I could hardly breathe.
He took his time and so did I, for twenty pages long,
When done, I heaved a quiet sigh... Were my words right or wrong?
He read it all and was impressed, 'Well done, I'll leave it here.
Please get it published. Do your best. The meaning's crystal clear.'
Then he stood up, walked to the door and so I let him go.
He said, 'God bless! ' and then no more, what more was there to know?
He flew away, past roofs and trees and reached the nearby hill
And soared up higher with such ease, yes, higher, higher still.
When my scanner scanned the pages, it left me quite perplexed,
As it must have taken ages to recognise the text.
I emailed every single word, my publisher replied,
He said he'd never been so stirred, I must've been inspired.
Of course, I couldn't tell him then! He'd get me locked away!
'I met this angel, ten foot ten, at home, this very day! '
So I kept quiet, private like... The published work sold well.
I bought a laptop and a bike, but one day, off I fell.
No guardian angel raised alarm that ice was on the road,
When I fell off, I broke my arm and said, 'Well, I'll be blowed.'
When I got home, I made the tea, got fish and chips that night
And got in bed quite carefully, then prayed with all my might!
The angel knocked upon my door, I sighed then let him in.
This time, because I knew the score, I chose not to begin.
'I'll use the laptop, type it out, then save the text that way.'
The angel looked at me so proud, God's wisdom to relay.
'Well done, please get it published soon! ' I walked him to the door,
He healed my arm, flew past the moon, I waved to him with awe.
That angel's words were good as gold, he certainly had skill.
It's only now my story's told... Make of it what you will...
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tommy's Dead
YOU may give over plough, boys,
You may take the gear to the stead,
All the sweat o' your brow, boys,
Will never get beer and bread.
The seed's waste, I know, boys,
There's not a blade will grow, boys,
'Tis cropped out, I trow, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Send the colt to fair, boys,
He's going blind, as I said,
My old eyes can't bear, boys,
To see him in the shed;
The cow's dry and spare, boys,
She's neither here nor there, boys,
I doubt she's badly bread;
Stop the mill to-morn, boys,
There'll be no more corn, boys,
Neither white nor red;
There's no sign of grass, boys,
You may sell the goat and the ass, boys,
The land's not what it was, boys,
And the beasts must be fed:
You may turn Peg away, boys,
You may pay off old Ned,
We've had a dull day, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
Move my chair on the floor, boys,
Let me turn my head:
She's standing there in the door, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Take her away from me, boys,
Your sister Winifred!
Move me round in my place, boys,
Let me turn my head,
Take her away from me, boys,
As she lay on here death-bed,
The bones of her thin face, boys,
As she lay on her death-bed!
I don't know how it be, boys,
When all's done and said,
But I see her looking at me, boys,
Whenever I turn my head;
Out of the big oak tree, boys,
Out of the garden-bed,
And the lily as pale as she, boys,
And the rose that used to be red.
There's something not right, boys,
But I think it's not in my head,
I've kept my precious sight, boys, --
The Lord be hallowéd!
Outside and in
The ground is cold to my tread,
The hills are wizen and thin,
The sky is shrivelled and shred,
The hedges down by the loan
I can count them bone by bone,
The leaves are open and spread,
But I see the teeth of the land,
And hands like a dead man's hand,
And the eyes of a dead man's head.
There's nothing but cinders and sand,
The rat and the mouse have fed,
And the summer's empty and cold;
Over valley and wold
Wherever I turn my head
There's a mildew and a mould,
The sun's going out overhead,
And I'm very old,
And Tommy's dead.
What am I staying for, boys,
You're all born and bred,
'Tis fifty years and more, boys,
Since wife and I were wed,
And she'd gone before, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
She was always sweet, boys,
Upon his curly head,
She knew she'd never see't, boys,
And she stole off to bed;
I've been siting up alone, boys,
For he'd come home, he said,
But it's time I was gone boys,
For Tommy's dead.
Put the shutters up, boys,
Bring out the beer and bread,
Make haste and sup, boys,
For my eyes are heavy as lead:
There's something wrong i' the cup, boys,
There's something ill wi' the bread,
I don't care to sup, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not right, I doubt, boys,
I've such a sleepy head,
I shall nevermore be stout, boys,
You may carry me to bed.
What are you about, boys?
The prayers are all said,
The fire's raked out, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
The stairs are too steep, boys,
You may carry me to the head,
The night's dark and deep, boys,
Your mother's long in bed,
'Tis time to go to sleep, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
I'm not used to a kiss, boys,
You may shake my hand instead.
All things go amiss, boys,
You may lay me where she is, boys,
And I'll rest my old head:
'Tis a poor world, this, boys,
And Tommy's dead.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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